


In a Pinch

by cornmaes



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Clint/Female Player, Clint/OC - Freeform, F/M, Gen, I Also Wrote This Instead Of Working, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Mentions of Sex, PLEASE LET ME MARRY CLINT, Pining, Stardew Valley - Freeform, Uhhh what r tags, abigail being fucking gr8, cursing, this is 11 pages long pls read it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-23 10:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornmaes/pseuds/cornmaes
Summary: Dear ConcernedApe,Please let me marry ClintThe end.
Relationships: Abigail/Female Player (Stardew Valley), Clint/Emily (Stardew Valley), Clint/Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I worked unusually hard on this and I feel weird about it. I actually really love Clint from Stardew Valley, which is what the kids call a "hot take" I guess. Let me marry the bear man. I might follow up with something more fleshed out if I feel like it but please don't get ur hopes up. Let me know what you think!

Clint squirmed uncomfortably in front of his forge, all of his attention focused on the ring in his gloved hands. For such a tiny piece of jewelry, the emotional weight it carried made him feel like he was holding a solid bar of lead in his arms. The flash of the ruby stone set in the middle of the piece caused his brain to automatically start pondering the owner of the wine-colored hair whose hand was intended for the ring in question. 

His on hesitation on the piece was if his best was good enough. This ring had to be absolutely perfect. There couldn't be anything less than absolutely flawless work. Clint's entire life was hanging on this ring and what it meant. He sighed at the ring as he gave it a final shine before setting it in a classic small black ring box and then pocketing the whole thing. It was finally finished, but now a whole new anxiety began. 

It was weird in retrospect to think about how being in love with someone else brought him right to the person he actually needed. Clint didn’t think he’d ever want anyone else other than Emily. She had consumed his waking thoughts for years, through no fault of her own. Clint had spent years building himself up to finally ask her to be with him, he just needed help. He just didn’t know that help would actually change the outcome of things. 

If you had asked him at that moment, he would have told you that if Emily turned him down, the world would implode and his life up until this point had been for nothing. That the advice and held he had received from Astrid the farmer was for nothing. 

**Astrid**. 

Clint couldn’t pin-point when he started preferring the passionate and burning wine hues of Astrid the farmer over the calm and cheerful blue of his lovely Emily. It was like standing in front of a warm fire on the beach after swimming in the ocean all day. He didn’t realize how cold the water was until he was out of it. 

What started as a humiliating (on Clint’s end) and enthusiastic (on Astrid’s end) plan to help the blacksmith finally court the object of his years of pining turned into a close bond and respect between the two, which slowly turned into a more-than-platonic fondness on both ends. Clint had denied his creeping romantic feelings, even though they had started to develop even before Emily turned him down. He figured that there wasn’t much to dive into when it came to them, especially considering Astrid was there to help him be with someone else. 

What Clint did know though, was the exact moment all of those feelings broke through and flooded his entire being. It had been a cold winter day about a week after Emily had turned him down. The whole situation had been quite weird. Clint had spent months building himself up to the point of asking Emily out, but he couldn’t help but acknowledge the small pang of hesitation in the action. 

He remembered sitting down with Emily at the Inn after her shift, like Astrid had suggested. He had the flowers, he had the words carefully planned out. But there was still that voice in the back of his head that was still telling him to wait. That this wasn’t the moment he had been waiting for.

He ignored it, chalking the feeling up to nerves.

Clint went through his whole spiel, the dread building as he continued, finishing the speech with an unceremonious thrust of bright red carnations at Emily, who just smiled knowingly. 

“You know,” she started, her smile ever evident, “I’ve known about this for months.”

Clint gulped, his brain not understanding why his stomach was a bottomless pit of sadness. 

“And I was waiting for it,” Emily admitted, Clint’s heart beating faster as he anticipated the reciprocation. But why wasn’t he excited? A year ago he would be ready to burst. 

“But then I watched you meet Astrid.”

The metaphorical record scratched as Clint felt his grip on his bouquet of flowers subconsciously tighten at the mention of the farmer’s name, his heart jumping out of his chest and clenching painfully at the sound of it. Emily’s gaze flicked to the flowers, her small hands pressing the bouquet back into his chest. 

“So I’m flattered, I really am. In another universe, maybe it would have been different. This bouquet doesn’t belong to me.” Emily’s eyes twinkled intuitively, “but I think you know that.”

Clint breathed out the breath that he hadn’t even realized he had been holding, relief flooding his body as he slid himself into a chair at the now empty bar. He threw the flowers onto the counter and sighed in defeat, his head falling into his hands.

This whole game of romantic bait and switch that the universe has been playing with him had him exhausted. It had taken him years to build up to this moment, but now he has to start all over again with a person that knows him in a way that most people don’t. Not to mention Astrid had worked so hard to help him get here. There would be no way he could hide from her the way he did with Emily. 

Emily took the silent slump of his shoulders and his deep sigh in response to her accusation as confirmation of her suspicions. She walked up to Clint silently, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he held his head, as if to physically make himself comprehend what was just discussed and realized on his end. 

There wasn’t much he could pull from the conversation he just had, but the one thing he knew as absolute was that he could not face Astrid. Not until he could think straight alone, not to mention around her. Avoiding her is the only thing he could do to save his sanity for now. And it worked. 

For like, two weeks.

  
  


The jingle of the door opening cutting through the clanging from the intense hammering at the poor piece of iron that still glowed red from heat, Clint glanced over his shoulder and about dropped the hot piece of iron and mallet in his hands at the sight of Astrid in his doorway. 

“Emily told me what happened. It’s been _two weeks_ my guy,” Alarm bells rang in Clint’s head as she spoke, her voice sympathetic, yet firm. What had they discussed? _What did Emily tell her?_ “I’m not going to let you wallow in it anymore. We are having a slumber party starting right this moment.”

Clint’s chest tightened at her voice ringing through his ear, and even more so at the term _slumber party,_ and _even more than that_ at the idea of Emily to Astrid about their conversation a week ago. On top of that, the thought of being around Astrid right now, let alone sleeping in the same room as her, was going to give him a stroke. He was socially awkward by nature, his truest friends being the heat from the forge and the sounds of metal on metal. But considering his probably-romantic feeling towards the farmer, Clint knew that his brain was going to crash like a computer sooner rather than later. 

But also, he wasn’t going to say no.

The night started pretty uneventfully, with Clint closing the shop early and Astrid stopping by her house for “supplies”. Clint was unsure of what that meant until she appeared back in his doorway, her arms stuff to the brim with blankets and pillows piled up high enough to block her face. Clint immediately took some of the bedding out of her grasp, inquiring what they were for in the process as they walked into the house portion of the building. 

“Blanket fort!” She exclaimed, dropping all of the blankets on Clint’s living room floor “After we get some wine from the store, of course.”  
  
“ _We?”_ Clint asked, the idea of braving the brisk winter night not appealing to him. 

“Yes _we_ ,” Astrid confirmed, “I’m not risking hypothermia alone.”

Flashforward about a half hour, Astrid and Clint are leaving the Blacksmith to brave the elements. In Astrid's excitement for their alcohol and snack run, she has just run out the door without her jacket into the glistening winter night. 

"It's _cold!_ " She squawked loudly, her voice echoing into the sky, "Clint! It's so fucking cold! We gotta go!"

Clint felt his wall of doom and gloom crack as the farmer hopped in the cold, trying desperately to stay moving as she started to laugh at herself in the situation. He felt her joy permeate his pores and contagious laughter start to bubble in his chest. He was slightly startled as she started to run away from him and in the direction of the general store. 

"A-Astrid!" Clint called, "wait for me!"

Astrid cackled in response as she ran down the cobblestone path to the general store and the sound filled Clint with a warmth that was almost enough to combat the cold. He ran behind her in a desperate attempt to keep up, an unknowing smile stretched across his bearded face as he too caught himself laughing as he chased his friend into the general store, both of them breathing a sigh of relief when stepping into the magical warmth called central heating. 

Their liquor run was short and sweet, giggles erupting from them both as they searched the shelves for other snacks and items they might need. The sound of Clint’s laughter mixing with Astrid’s earned the blacksmith a weird look from Caroline, who was running the shop in place of her husband that night while he spent his night off at the bar. Clint felt his soul leave his body as he watched Caroline’s confusion at his uncharacteristic silliness melt into a knowing, amused expression as she caught the blush that filled Clint’s bewildered face when he locked eyes with the shop owner. 

Clint realized he had been caught staring at Astrid like a lost puppy as she was walking the aisles, chattering about anything that crossed her mind innocently. He reprimanded his inability to not wear his heart on his sleeve. She pulled a bottle of wine off the shelf with a triumphant "ah-ha!" hoisting the bottle by the neck like a trophy. 

"Found it!" She leaned closer to Clint, as if telling him a secret, "this is my "feel better" juice."

Clint snorted before dissolving into laughter once more, his heart swelling as he watched Astrid fall apart as well. He was always laughing with her; Astrid never failed to hit all of his funny bones. But tonight his laughter came a little easier due to the nerves that wracked his large frame to the core.

The trip home also involved running and tons of yelling on Astrid's part. Clint felt slightly bad for his neighbors due to his late it was, but he would never want to ask her to tone herself down. She was loud and joyful, like the sun in the fact that neither one should never be dimmed. Astrid brought out a more silly and easy going side of Clint, and being around her made him want to explore and come to embrace that side of him. 

Astrid hopped around from foot to foot as Clint fumbled with his door and the general store bags in his capable arms, both of them running inside and making a bee line for the blankets piled on Clint’s couch. They both collapsed on the sofa, breathless as Astrid still shook from the cold outside. 

“Here!” Clint felt a moment of bravery propel him as he threw a soft blanket over the both of their heads, “now you can be warm.”

The blacksmith felt the dread of his decision set in as their crossed legs pressed together, now sitting face to face, panting. It was now Clint’s turn to shake, but not due to the temperature. He could feel Astrid’s warm breath on his face as she seemed to search his face for answers. At that moment, he prayed that the combination of his beard plus pink tint cast from the light shining through his half-assed blanket fort would be enough to hide the blush that crept up his neck and into his cheeks. 

The whole world slowed down as a whisper of a laugh passed through Astird’s lips as she reached up to gently pinch Clint's cheek, her smile enough to melt glaciers. The motion sent a shock right through him, like he had thrown his whole body into an electric fence. The zing of pure electricity that went down his spine was followed by a pooling of warmth in his chest, his heart blooming to life like spring. 

They locked eyes, and Astrid's hand still lingered, it now resting on his cheek as question filled her eyes. Clint sucked in a breath through his nose, trying to will his heart to keep beating as he mustered up his courage to face the situation at hand. He felt his body move as if he was floating, his head dipping slightly as Astrid’s eyes grew wide, a bright blush filling her face.

And then someone knocked on the _fucking_ door. 

Clint’s head popped up from under the blanket, his face bright red and angry, his hands waiting to be caught by whoever just interrupted what could have been his chance to finally do something right. He tore through the blacksmith’s shop and ripped the door open, revealing a bundled up Pierre holding a bag in his hands.

“Hey! So sorry to bother you I know you’re... _busy,”_ Caroline started, her eyes glinting mischievously. Clint narrowed his eyes _, what the fuck was_ **_that_ ** _supposed to mean_? “but you guys forgot some of your items on the counter.”

Clint blinked and let out a quiet “oh” and “thank you” as he took the bag of snack food from Caroline, who was noticeably trying to glance over the blacksmith’s shoulders for a sign of someone else in the room. Clint momentarily wondered if she had maybe held back the bag on purpose so she could get a foot in the door to what was going on behind closed doors. He silently cursed the nosiness of a lot of the inhabitants of Stardew Valley as his thoughts were interrupted by Astrid appearing from the back and his face blushing a nuclear red at Caroline’s amused reaction to her presence. 

“Clint! I just got a text from Marnie saying that one of my cattle escaped and is in her front yard! I’m so sorry, but I have to leave,” Astrid reached up and pinched his cheek, her hand lingering subtly to others, but it was there for years if you were to ask Clint. Was this her acknowledging what just almost happened? 

The whole damn world slowed down once more as Clint barely caught the dreamy smile that spread across her lips as she did so. God, her **_lips_ **. He wished he had gotten to see if they were as soft and luscious as they looked. 

“I’ll stop by in the morning, okay?”

“O-Okay.” Clint felt the words quietly fall out of his mouth as he watched Astrid give Caroline a greeting and squeeze past him to go wrangle her cow.

Being around her felt like being in a hurricane, the wind whipping around him, making all of his hair stand on end and the storm leaving him dazed and confused even long after it was over. He stared over Caroline’s shoulder at Astrid’s retreating form, his eyes glazing over as he really wished he had gotten brave enough just a few seconds earlier. Then maybe he wouldn’t be missing her as much as he did at this moment. But then again, Astrid always left Clint wanting more. 

“What was _that?”_ Clint completely forgot Caroline was there, her now almost begging for more, “you have to tell me--”

Clint slammed the door in the shopkeeper wife’s face, his whole upper half lit up like a Christmas tree. He groaned as he walked back into his house with the bag of snacks that would probably now go uneaten. There was no way he could think about eating right now, or sleeping for that matter. He knew tonight all he was going to be able to do is lay awake, and ponder about what could have been if he had just a few more seconds under that blanket with her. 

  
  


The next morning Clint sat at the counter of the blacksmith nursing a cup of coffee and trying to stay awake, sure he could pack for a whole vacation with the bags under his eyes. He had fulfilled his own prophecy and had only slept for a collective 45 minutes the night prior.

He spent the whole night wide awake, analyzing every move made last night and trying to figure out what it meant. Astrid's smell of deep woods and bright flowers was seemingly permanently imprinted in his brain, it was all he could smell after she left and all this morning. In some way, it was like an aphrodisiac. If he closed his eyes and used his imagination, she was here with him. 

A sudden, loud pounding on the front door cause him to jump and just about spill his abandoned lukewarm coffee all over himself. He stumbled to the front door, throwing it open in a disgruntled fashion. 

"The door was unlocked Astrid you don't have to--" 

It was not Astrid on his doorstep like he had secretly hoped and assumed. It was Abigail, and she was seething.

"Oh."

""Oh" is right, bear man!" Abigail explained as she pushed herself past Clint's large frame into the blacksmith's, "I can't _believe_ you are sleeping with my best friend without informing me first!"

"Wait," Clint could feel his blood pressure climbing for the millionth time in the last 24 hours, "W-What?"

"Don't play games with me, blacksmith," Abigail growled, poking a black polished finger into his chest angrily, "It's all my mom could talk about this morning at breakfast! About how she saw Astrid saunter out of your house late last night, fucking floating on air."

_Floating on air? She was hardly--_ God this was all too much. 

"Me and Astrid aren't-- I mean-- I'm not, wait no, she's not--" Clint started to nervously babble, his brain finally melting down from the anxiety of the events of the last day and a half. 

Abigail watched his face grow redder as he spewed anxiety-fuel nonsense, why would he be so nervous to admit their relationship? People hook up in this town all the time, it wasn't a big deal. There's not much to do around here except to smoke pot and have sex. She wasn't a fucking cop, why couldn't he just be honest? Not to mention, he should be _damn proud_ of being with someone as wonderful as her best friend Astrid.

Then it hit her.

This wasn't the face of a man hiding a scandalous affair. This was the face of a man with such a huge crush he could hardly function. 

Then Abigail smiled a smile with not too far from The Grinch in appearance.

"I didn't mean to break your brain, big guy. Now that I see you, you definitely aren't shacking up with her." She dismissed with a casual wave if the hand before going back to her previous amused, wolfish grin, "but you want to, don't you?"

"God **_yes_ **," Clint caught himself saying, his face becoming somehow a deeper red at the slip, "N-Not like that!"

"I know, I know what you meant." Abigail intervened, "and it's okay if it was the other way. I'm not the fun police."

The purple haired musician sighed, 

"Look, don't pop an artery, my man. I'm just here to tell you something. And I need you to look at me for this one."

Clint locked eyes with Abigail, her gaze turning dark and her eyes sending a message of warning. 

"If you do her wrong, or make her feel like shit in any possible way, I _will_ find out." She hissed out, "and I _will_ make you regret it."

Clint didn't even have time to react as his door mingled with and the farmer of the hour appeared. Astrid looked just the opposite of him, well rested and glowing. Watching her enter any room was like watching her walk on water; it made his brain short circuit, how could anyone seem to make time stop like that? The only cohesive thought he could pick out at that moment was a plea to the universe to please stop beating him with its cosmic baseball bat. Clint felt the dread in his stomach bubble up once more as he saw Abigail's wheels start turning in her head. Whatever she was thinking about doing was sure to kill him, Clint knew this to be fact. 

"Hey Clint I'm here to grab the stuff I left here last ni-" Astrid caught glimpse of Abigail her eyes widening slightly and her cheeks tinging pink. Clint wondered why she was so flustered by her own best friend, "A-Abigail! **_What are you doing here?_ **"

"Oh you know," Abigail started, "Having a conversation with your **boyfri** \--"

" _I'mgonnagogetmystuffinthebacknowbye!"_ Astrid's expression mirrored a deer in headlights as she turned and rushed out of the room, leaving Abigail to laugh to herself while Clint stood, eyes lingering on the door Astrid slammed behind her in her retreat. 

Abigail then saunted to stand next to Clint, now looking at the door with him. She turned her gaze to the larger man.

"I just wanted to take that opportunity to show you," she explained, "that a.) I know all and b.) there is no reason to be scared."

Clint stood in silence, the gears in his head obviously turning and processing the information now in his possession. Abigail sighed, taking his silence as a sign for her to see herself out. 

"Okay," she yielded, "I'm going. I've obviously broken you. But remember what I said."

The blacksmith didn't turn to watch her leave, only listened for the bells and the sound of the door shutting behind her. He stood in silence, his eyes now digging holes into the door that leads into house. Should he go check on her or wait?

_Come on, be brave for once in your life_ , Clint told himself as he pushed into his living room to Astrid sitting on his couch, seeming equally as frazzled and bewildered. She let out a sheepish laugh.

"I guess last night has people talking. Funny right?" Astrid laughed, Clint could feel his balloon of hope deflate with every word she said, "Us hooking up. How ridiculous!"

"Ha, yeah." Clint agreed, his heart sinking to his stomach as he forced a matching smile to Astrid. 

He wasn't sure if he did well enough to hide the disappointment in his eyes, but Astrid didn't seem to notice as she turned her attention to gathering the things she left due to her rush last night. Clint turned his attention to literally anywhere other than her bent over form in front of him. He couldn't help but feel relieved that she wasn't staying long, he needed some peace. With that thought, he made a mental note to lock the door behind her and close the shop for the day. The physical exhaustion caught up with him and he finally felt tired enough for a nap. Also, Clint knew he wouldn't be able to take another interrogation on his romantic life, and staying open today was just asking for it. 

Astrid marched in front of him towards the door, the large man following behind her like a kitten before opening the door for her. She turned to Clint, his breath catching painfully in his chest as they locked eyes.

"Hey, I know things have been gloomy since the whole Emily thing went down. But just because that didn't pan out doesn't mean I'm not here for you. Please don't be angry with me anymore." 

Astrid's face fell with her statement, and Clint's heart wrenched in agony at the idea of her even remotely thinking he was cross with her, she didn't even seem to know what him and Emily talked about. Astrid averted her gaze and clutched her blankets tighter into her chest. 

"I-I can't help but feel like you've been avoiding me since the whole thing with her went down. I feel like you're probably upset with me because I egged you on and now you regret it. I understand if you do but…" Astrid shifted uncomfortably, "I just really like being around you and I don't want it to stop." 

Clint wished for nothing other than the ability to throw all of those blankets in her arms across the room and hold her, and sing to her every praise of her that had ever crossed his mind. He wanted to love her in every way he knew how, and continue to learn other ways to fall more in love with her. 

  
  


His surge of desire was briefly interrupted by shock as the fast development of his deep feelings towards Astrid. He had only been fully aware of the depth of his love for her for about two weeks, but his infatuation had reached and has now probably surpassed his one with Emily at this point. The realization of his feelings broke the dam of hidden desires he carried when it came to her, the majority of it while there, was buried deep in his subconscious due to the former circumstance of Clint and Astrid's friendship, the end goal being Emily. But then his dream changed, and when it changed it felt like the sky opened up, and Clint could see the sun and all of it's truth. In which, Astrid took form. 

It took every ounce of his being to refrain, which had been part of the reason he had been hiding from her. But, it was at that moment that he realized what avoiding her must have made it seem like. The guilt settled heavy on his shoulders in the fact that he was too afraid to ruin their friendship with the truth. 

"Astrid, I…" Clint started, his voice faltering as he carefully chose his next words, knowing that no matter what he said, it wouldn't be nearly enough to express the whole truth "...could never be mad at you."

Astrid's face softened into a relieved smile and Clint's heart sang. 

"I'm so relieved to hear you say that." Astrid adjusted the blankets in her arms, grunting in a way that Clint found painfully cute, "Anyways, I have to get going. These are getting real heavy. I'm so glad that mine cart is fixed. I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," Clint smiled, and his restraint was broken for one second, to which he later rationalizes to a wombo-combo of caffeine and sleep deprivation. A strange, calm confidence washed over him as he reached to Astrid's face and pinched her cheek gently, mirroring where she pinched his. The blacksmith's brain was then thrown into immediate chaos, on track to another meltdown with the action. 

  
  


Her eyes lit up in shock, her expression unreadable as his calloused hand lingered on her, in Clint's firm opinion, _unreasonably_ soft cheek. Clint held his breath, watching her face melt into the most buttery, sweet smile as she reached up and squeezed his hand gently, balancing the blankets in her non-dominant arm

"Bye." Her tone this time was a lot softer. 

And with that, she turned and made her way to the mine cart, Clint staring after her with stars in his eyes. 

After Astrid had long disappeared, Clint turned back into the shop, his energy revitalized as he went straight to the forge with a smile on his face. He sat at his draft table, tapping a pencil between his fingers against the wood as he brainstormed about what to draw for a future project. His mind filled with Astrid, her touch still lingering on his skin, there was only one thing he wanted to make at that moment. 

A ring. 

An engagement ring designed three weeks before he finally stopped being scared. Beautiful silver and a deep cut ruby wine like his beloved's hair. The same one he started making the day after they first kissed. The same one that he has revised time and time again until it feels like it's **_hers_ **. The very same ring that he has now finished after almost two and a half years after falling in love with Astrid the first time. 

The very one in his pocket at right now as walked to meet Astrid at her house to escort her to the annual Flower Dance. It burned a hole in his pocket and he kept patting his leg as he walked to check to see if it was still there. The way things usually go, Clint was half anticipating for it to grow legs and jump put of his suit pants pocket. This year was the first year he actually dressed up for the festival, the idea being his and his alone.

Clint approached Astrid's doorstep and knocked, checking one more with a hand into his pocket for the ring box. His hand snagged in the edge of his pocket which sent the ring box flying out of his pocket and onto the group, the ring also falling out of the box. 

He scrambled to the ground for both the ring and the box, hoping to pocket both before Astrid opened the door. He quickly pocketed the box and picked the ring up in his hand when the front door swung open. The person behind it was somehow worse than Astrid herself. 

There stood Abigail in complete formal wear, barefoot with her hair in curlers. And unfortunately for Clint, her eyes immediately zoned into the wine red ring the blacksmith clutched almost comically between his index and middle fingers. 

"Holy fucking **_shit._ ** You finally took my advice."

  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Bernie Sanders voice) Concernedape, I am once again asking you to please let me marry Clint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:
> 
> No one at all:
> 
> Me: I'm going to write a second chapter

Abigail’s shocked expression quickly lit up into a shit-eating grin at Clint’s bewildered expression, the blacksmith now struggling to scramble his large frame off the ground. The last person he wanted to know about his secret would be the opinionated shopkeeper’s daughter; she hardly refrained from something she saw as an adventure. However helpful she might be (or think she might be), Clint knew her involvement would make things way more complicated. Abigail started to open her mouth, probably for another question as a voice rang out behind her shoulder. 

“Abigail! Who are you talking to? Is Clint here?” Astrid’s voice rang through the door, it getting closer just as Clint managed to get to his feet and the ring back in the box in his pocket. It took him every fiber of his being to refrain from shaking like a leaf as his beloved Astrid approached the door frame, the flowers threaded through her bobbed hair and her deep blue eyes shining against the contrast of the floral patterned sundress she wore. He doesn't think he will ever be able to stay calm at the way her eyes light up when she sees him.

Clint jumped at the gasp that forced itself through Astrid’s lip, her rushing up to the blacksmith and taking his large hands in hers. Her smile was dazzling as she stared up at him, like Clint had lassoed in the moon and stars just for her. 

“You dressed up this year!” She exclaimed with a small joyful hop, Clint’s insides were mush as Astrid reached up to kiss him. Everytime she kisses him always feels like the first time, “and you look wonderful. I hope Abigail wasn’t roasting you too hard about it before I came.”

"Hardly." Was the other girl's response. 

  
  


Abigail smirked at Clint over Astrid’s unknowingly shoulder and he could feel a bead of nervous sweat slide down his spine. The ring is his pocket now felt even heavier as he trudged into the farmhouse, leaving the shy man to briefly wonder if the weight would be heavy enough to pull him down to the center of the earth. He would almost prefer that over the almost Herculean task that faced him now.

But watching Astrid laugh at Abigail as they approached the task of undoing the purple haired girl’s curlers, the process looking difficult and somewhat taxing, sent a wash of calm over Clint’s entire being as he watched them work from the couch. If things turned out the way he wanted them to, he would be able to hear that laugh everyday really soon. It already replayed in his head like his favorite song, but the difference between that ethereal sound and music on the radio is that Clint could never get sick of hearing Astrid laugh. Her laughter meant happiness, and that was all the blacksmith wanted to give her. As much laughter and joy as she could ever want. 

God he  **_loved_ ** her so much. 

He admired Astrid’s nimble fingers work at her friend’s hair, amazed that those hands have produced and nurtured so much life. Her crops, her animals, this entire town, not to mention Clint’s own soul have all been touched and loved by her. The farmer let out a small victory cry as she pulled out the last curler, throwing it into the box with the rest of them on her coffee table and immediately shoving a handheld mirror into Abigail’s hands. 

“Take a look and let me know if you like it,” Astrid said before turning away into the direction of her bedroom, “I have to go find my good shoes.”

Clint gulped as his gaze slid over to Abigail, the two of them now alone in the living room as Astrid finished getting ready. Icy blue eyes slide up from her own reflection in the mirror, now centered on the large blacksmith in front of her, fidgeting like a child in the principal’s office.

“So.” Abigail turned her attention back to adjusting her now curled hair in the mirror nonchilantly, “how long have you been working on that ring, bud?”

“....Almost three years,” Clint saw no point in trying to hide at this point. Abigail’s eyebrows shot straight up into her amethyst hairline as her gaze snapped back to him.

“ **_Three years, my dude?”_ ** She asked incredulously, setting the mirror down on the table in shock, “that means you have  _ had _ to start working on it  **_at least--”_ **

“The day after our first kiss,” he interrupted. 

For once, Abigail didn’t seem to have much to say except:

“That’s so  _ sweet _ I’m going to vomit.” 

Clint too felt like he could throw up, but for  _ entirely _ different reasons. 

Both living room parties were startled by Astrid’s head popping out of her bedroom, locking eyes with Clint.

“Hey love,” Even her pet names made his brain float away from his body, “I’ll be done in a second, could you carry the stuff I made for the potluck to the festival grounds for me? Spaghetti in bulk is really heavy, come to find out.”

“Dude, you could ask him to commit murder and he’d do it without question.” Abigail called back to Astrid teasingly. The farmer’s head popped back out of the bedroom. 

“Not all of us are rude bitches like you Abigail,” A delighted cackle from his love rang out as Abigail threw a bobby pin in the direction of the quickly shut door. Clint but couldn't help but let out a small chuckle himself.

A few minutes passed, Abigail deciding to actually finish getting ready instead of hounding Clint for more details of his not-so-secret plan. Unfortunately, while he was thankful for the break in the interrogation, the quiet left a moment for the blacksmith to get back inside his own head about the whole situation at hand. 

Was this really what he should be doing? Their discussion about marriage seemed to be pretty in line in the past, but what if she changed her mind? What if he completely fucked up and this isn't anywhere near the way she wanted to be asked?  _ What if she wasn't actually in love with him? _

  
  


His anxiety spiral was interrupted by the woman of the hour reappearing in the living room, now donning heels and the string of pearls given to her by Clint for their first anniversary. Concern was painted all over Clint as she approached him, still locked on the couch. She pressed a gentle hand to his forehead. 

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" She inquired, now pressing the same hand against his cheek, "you seem feverish. Do we need to cancel? I know your allergies are bad this time of year."

" **N-no!"** Clint exclaimed in alarm, feeling his face grow hotter "...no. I'm fine, I promise."

"Okay.' Astrid frowned, granting him a kiss on the forehead after she removed her hand. Clint caught Abigail looking on bemusingly, "just let me know. We can leave early if we have to." 

Twenty minutes later, the trio was now walking down the path through the woods to the festival grounds. Astrid and Abigail were walking ahead, Clint being a few places behind due to the bags hanging off his arms. He felt like the burden he carried was heavier as he noticed the way Astrid and Abigail would turn to look at him while walking before turning back and bursting into giggles. Clint felt his heart start to pound at being in dark to their conversation. He didn't  _ think _ Abigail would spoil the surprise, but honestly, she was such a wild card the large bearded man just couldn't be sure. For once, he cursed at Astrid's compulsive need to provide for their community. If he wasn't saddled with these bags, he would be able to keep watch on their conversation. Clint needed today to go perfectly.

He did, however, take more than a few moments during their walk to admire Astrid from afar. From the way the crown of white lilies on her head contrasted against the wine red of her hair, to the way her sundress fit snugly against her upper body and flared out deliciously from her hips. Clint just about groaned out loud as his brain automatically started to consider what was  _ under  _ that flowy sundress as it swished gently against the farmer's strong thighs in the wind, but he psychically shook the thought out of his head.

Now was not the time to go down that path. The last thing he needed for this proposal was a fucking  _ erection. _

But when it came to Astrid, Clint's mind always went fuzzy. It was hard to keep track of his thoughts or where they were headed. Her presence just  _ consumed  _ him whole, like the warmest, softest blanket in the universe. It was hard to think about anything but her when she was around these days. But especially today. 

As they entered the festival grounds, Clint's nerves increased tenfold. He set the bags down on the designated table, once more checking for the ring in his pocket. Still there. Still feeling like it could burn a whole through his pants at any moment. He sighed after Astrid thanked him with a quick kiss, leaving him behind to go make her rounds with the other villagers.

Abigail appeared seemingly out of nowhere to stand next to him, which caused the poor blacksmith to jump slightly out of his skin for the twentieth time today. He swore she was like a damn ghost, you never heard her coming. Both of their eyes were on the unknowing farmer as she was sucked into one conversation after another. 

"So," Abigail spoke, her eyes not leaving her best friend, "what's the plan, big guy?" 

Clint about had a heart attack on the spot. What  _ was  _ the plan? He hadn't thought much beyond making the ring and marrying Astrid. One goal was finished, but it was just then he realized his plan to complete his next goal wasn't nearly as concrete as he once thought. He only finished the ring a few days prior and quite frankly, wanted to finally be able to give it to her as soon as possible and he had just automatically came to the decision that the Flower Festival was the best place for it. That was a romantic occasion a proposal, right? At least that was his thought process. 

Staring at that ring for almost three years, especially knowing what it's implied eventual use was supposed to be, was just outright  _ stressful _ . But now, he realized his rush to finally get the ring to its rightful owner, he had overlooked the when and how. 

"I…" Clint sighed in response to Abigail's question, "I have no fucking idea."

"Fuck man." She cursed the situation, "all I have to say is you better make it good."

Clint could hear the underlying threat in her voice, but he understood. If there was anyone that loved Astrid as much as he did, it was Abigail. He learned not to take it personally and that for the most part, they operate with the same interest; to make his girlfriend happy. Her happiness was always his priority, he just hoped that he could prove that to her today without a shadow of a doubt. 

The dance progressed as usual with the routine that the single folks in town put on to the speech from Lewis afterwards about spring and how it brings renewal. During the speech, Astrid stood next to Clint the whole time, her arm wrapped his waist and his around her shoulders. She took her eyes off the festivities once every few minutes to look up at Clint and give him one of her winning smiles. The way she looked at him alone was enough to propel him forward with his plan, or lack thereof at this point. He could feel the tension rising as everyone was sitting down chatting after finishing the potluck spaghetti that Astrid had brought. It was either now or never. 

"H-Hey Astrid?" Clint quipped after finishing his plate, it now empty in front of him.

He reached his hand into his pocket discreetly maneuvering the ring out of the box and into his hand. 

"Yes Clint?" Astrid responded, her face glowing as people were coming by to compliment her on her dish. 

"I need to as-" 

His words were cut off by Gus approaching Astrid, absolutely raving about her spaghetti. 

"That was absolutely fantastic!" He praised, "that marinara sauce was unlike anything I’ve ever had. What's your secret?"

Astrid smiled, turning away from Clint and to the chef as she started to explain her process to him. The blacksmith sat for a second, dumbfounded. This was  _ it. _ He had to do this  _ now _ or his brain was going to explode. 

"Instead of canned tomatoes I use tomatoes I already cooked down and preserved. I take the cooking  _ real _ slow." Astrid explained.

"Um, A-Astrid." Clint tried to interject, his heart racing. 

"Hold on Clint, I'm sorry." Astrid apologized quickly, turning back to Gus and their game of twenty questions.

"What temperature do you set it on?" Gus asked, completely blind to Clint's bright red face growing brighter as he clutched his hands together, feeling the ring dig into his palms as his hands started to shake.

" _ Astrid  _ **_please_ ** _ , this is really important!"  _ The blacksmith pleaded quietly once more, his hands starting to pick up pace with the shaking. She was completely oblivious. 

"Low and slow! My secret is a slow cooker!"

His hands were now very obviously shaking, his vision almost blurry from the nerves. His face was so hot his beard almost caught fire from the heat. He could see the alarmed expression on Abigail's face, her standing far back away from them, but still observing obviously. However, she was now joined by Sam and Sebastian, who seemed to be just as invested. It looks like she filled them in on the events about to unfold.

"Oh,  _ really? _ I've heard great things about those, I really ought to try it."

His hands were shaking frequently now as he sputtered for something to say to get his girlfriend's attention, his entire face and neck now beet red.

"I highly recommend it I got mine at--"

**"Astrid!** **_Please!_ ** **"** Clint snapped, his voice rising as he stood out his chair. It fell behind him with an abrupt clatter as he stood, the grounds now falling silent at his outburst.

He finally had Astrid's full attention, which was great. She was now staring at him quizzically and slightly annoyed. But with that, he had also gained the attention of the entire town, which was not so great as they stared at the couple expectantly. His hands were violently shaking as he tried to speak,

" **I-I…"**

His hands were shaking so hard, that before he could even start his sentence, the ring that he had spent three years trying to keep a secret simply fell out of his hands and directly into his empty spaghetti plate with a ceramic sounding clink. He could swear he heard Abigail snort with laughter in the background. 

**_Fuck._ **

His brain just about shattered into a million pieces. All he could do was stare at the damn thing, now sitting almost mockingly perfect right in the middle of his empty spaghetti-stained plate. All of this damn work and he dropped the fucking thing because his hands were shaking so much. The only good news being that the shaking had stopped.

His downward spiral was interrupted by a strangled noise. His attention immediately focused on Astrid, who was now frozen in her chair with her eyes locked directly onto the ring. Abigail came up behind her and touched her friend’s shoulder with a smile. 

"I think it's time for you to stand up now, babe." 

She helped a bewildered Astrid stand due to the farmer being obviously weak in the knees as she started shaking just as hard Clint was not even two minutes ago, her keeping a one-handed grip on the back of her chair to remind upright. The grounds started to light up with gasps from onlookers as he picked up the ring from the plate and began to walk around the table to Astrid. He could feel bodywalking around the table to her, as if he was floating. For the first time today, he wasn't terrified. A beautiful serenity washed over him as everything seemed to start to fall into slow motion. This was finally it. 

Clint swallowed, his mouth as dry as the desert as he stood in front of an obviously emotional Astrid as the tears welled up in her eyes. He took both of her hands in his with a smile, the ring sandwiched between them. He took a shaky breath, exhaling it just as shakily. 

“Astrid...god what can I even say?” He began, ignoring how the villagers started to close around them. Watching the quiet tears stream down her clearly emotional face made him tear up as well, it showing in the cracks of his voice. He took one hand from hers to wipe his eyes. “I can’t help but feel like my entire life has built up to this moment. To you.”

“You know I’m not that great with words, and I love you for that. But honestly, I just love you for everything you are. You are the only person who brings me peace and you don’t even have to try half the time. I just... _god_ _you’re amazing_.” 

A strangled sob left Astrid’s lips as Clint fell to one knee, his hands still clasping hers as the tears started streaming down his face as well, “I need you to marry me because I’m a wreck all the time.  **_Please._ ** **”**

Everyone seemed to be holding their breath all at once as Astrid sniffed, wiping her eyes repeatedly as Clint stared up at her pleadingly, now presenting her with the ring. He never wanted anything more in his life than to be her husband; to be the one that protected and provided for her. He wanted Astrid to feel safe and loved. So,  _ so _ loved. He knew by looking at her that she would always be the holder of his heart, and he didn’t trust anyone more to do so. A watery smile spread across her face as she pinched Clint’s cheek gently which sent his heart into orbit. Hopeful, teary, and vulnerable brown eyes matched with even more tearful gray ones. 

  
“Of  **_course_ ** _. _ ” 


End file.
